Dazed

Dazed…

I think that’s the right word… Recently there hasn’t been an adjective more appropriate than “dazed”. It’s been a constant question mark wherever I go. My job, while extremely beneficial financially, does not quite satisfy the taste of success in my life’s dictionary. I kept asking myself what it was I long for. Somehow, I gravitate towards things I want more than those I need. I can’t distinguish them anymore.

I’m thankful that I got out of an industry (call center – no offense) where I couldn’t see a future for myself. I’m thankful that I found this job right smack in the middle of the financial world. I’m thankful that I’m being paid well enough to live alone and quite possibly support a family. But at the end of this paragraph, no matter how thankful I am, there’s an undeniable hole my current condition couldn’t possibly fill.

With certainty and vigor, I used to think that if I had money in my pocket and a good day-job I would be happy. I was wrong. I have money. I have a good day-job. I’m no where near happy, except for those times I’m heading home to see my future bride. The repetition is fine – the monotony even better. But the difference lies in where that monotony circulates.

Mid-life has not yet struck its mighty hammer upon me. And I am, pardon my French, scared shitless when it comes. The most crucial intersection of life comes to view and I could, at this point, only shudder.

Another “Corp.” filed, another “Corp.” with a lot of different issues, another “Corp.” resolved. What about “Pipo Corp.”? Who’s the analyst in charge? Who’s the reviewer?

At the end of this little doodle, there won’t be a defined conclusion. There won’t be a tangible ending. At the end of this little doodle, I don’t even think I made sense. At the end of this doodle, I find out that the talent I have been given no longer possesses its luster. There is one thing that’s remotely important and I’ll say anyway: I can’t write anymore. And it’s saddening.